


Dedicated, Too

by Polly_Lynn



Category: Castle
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Jealousy, Partners to Lovers, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 14:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11359632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polly_Lynn/pseuds/Polly_Lynn
Summary: She doesn’t need to sit down at her desk. There’s not really anything to do. The case is  closed. Ryan and Esposito are off with their new friend. And things have been . . . righted between the two of them.





	Dedicated, Too

**Author's Note:**

> Episode tag for “The Dead Pool” (3 x 22) I’ve had this idea in the back of my head for a while, and I had made a few false starts. This seems to be what Brain!Poneh wanted to write?

Day is done. There’s no doubt about it. 

She doesn’t need to sit down at her desk. There’s not really anything to do. The case is  closed. Ryan and Esposito are off with their new friend. And things have been . . . righted between the two of them. 

_Thank you_

_Always_

The roles are reversed, but the words serve as they always do, underlined with a meaning look. A look brimming with unspecified feeling. 

It’s all settled, and day is done, but she eases into her desk chair anyway. He drops into his, looking satisfied, and she does some busy work. It’s not the first time she’s drawn the day out like this. Not the first time he’s hung around for no apparent reason. 

_(For all too apparent reasons.)_

It’s not even the first time she’s admitted it to herself. What she’s doing. What he is. What they are. It’s nothing like the first time, and still it’s out of the ordinary. 

She knows that on some level. As she rearranges things that don’t need rearranging. Goes over forms that don’t need going over. As she keeps up her end of the meandering conversation, she knows it’s out of the ordinary. 

Alex Conrad is nothing. He never was, and sitting here like this, she’s not exactly proud of the way she pretended he was. She’s not exactly sure why she’s been hell bent on making Castle say the words out loud. 

_I want you all to myself_

She knows that. She’s known that for a long while, however blasé he seems when her phone rings and it’s Josh. However carefully he schools his features when he asks. 

_So. Plans with Josh tonight?_

She knows he wants her all to himself, and she’s not at all proud that his new-found respect for boundaries frustrates her, irritates her. It _saddens_ her, and that’s _so_ fucked up. She knows it is, and she’s not at all proud that using Alex Conrad turns out to be part of it. A new, fucked-up move in a game she never meant to play. 

“It’s late,” she says suddenly. 

He frowns. He was in the middle of something. _They_ were in the middle of something, apparently, but he takes his cue. He switches gears. 

“Late.” He pats his thighs. Pats his pockets like he was just going anyway, and she hates that he’s good at this. She hates how much practice he has skimming the surface with her. “You’re knocking off, too?” 

That’s a crack in the veneer. however casual he’s trying to sound. The way he leans closer than he needs to as he rises. The almost comical furrow between his brows when he reaches for the back of her chair, only to realize that she’s already wearing her jacket. Only to realize there’s no ready-made reason to step right into her personal space. 

“I am.” She shoots to her feet, and he’s in her personal space anyway. She’s in his, though she swears she didn’t mean it. “Knocking off.”

A smile spreads over his face as they fall in step. She feels her lips curve in answer, and— _God—_ she needs to stop this. Secret smiles and brushing shoulders. Leaning against the back wall of the elevator exactly next to him and letting disappointment wash through her when the doors ding open on one. 

She needs to stop turning toward him the minute they spill out the doors to linger a little longer in the streetlights.

She needs to stop.

Just not tonight.

“I’m still jealous, you know.” He’s playing it up. Exaggerating now, but the weight is there. The meaning. “You gave him a business card. You never gave _me_ a business card.” 

“Why would I give you one more way to hunt me down, Castle?” 

“It’s the principle of the thing.” He sniffs. Assumes a wounded look. 

He can’t hold on to it. Not when they’re standing too close in the streetlights. Not when she fishes in her pocket for the slim stack of cards. Not when he reaches for it, and their fingers brush as she holds on a second too long. 

“Sign it?” It’s a too-sincere request. Too unveiled, though he tries to cover with a careless, crooked smile that doesn’t lighten things nearly enough. “Mine should be better than his.” 

He nudges the card toward her. Fumbles for a pen inside his coat, even as he turns to offer his back as a writing desk. 

“Better.” 

She rolls her eyes. She closes her hand tight around the pen and hopes he doesn’t see it's shaking a little. Hopes it doesn’t show in the swoop of her signature. 

“Better,” she says again. She slaps the card into his palm as he turns toward her and catches the frown in progress on his face. “What?” She thrusts the pen at him. “What _now?”_

“No hugs and kisses?” He’s kidding, now. Well and truly kidding, as he pouts down at the card in his hand. 

It’s an out he’s giving her. She feels a flash of frustration. Irritation and sadness and self reproach. 

She suddenly notices the night thrumming around them. She notices it’s cold for April, and the stream of head-down commuters is none too pleased at the immovable object the two of them present. She suddenly remembers that day is done and this is a game she never meant to play. 

“Night, Castle.” She gives him a quiet smile and turns. 

“Later,” he says quickly enough that it pulls her gaze back back over her shoulder. 

He’s holding up the card like a hard-won trophy, and there’s a challenge in it. Something a little wicked in the way he stands his ground until she gives in. Until she stops and faces him, because boundaries are one thing, and this game is another. 

He flips his wallet open with a flourish, slipping the card inside with a single, deft motion. 

“I’ll get those later,” he says. He turns and goes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to mark this complete, though I kind of have an idea for a sequel. I don't want to promise that, though.


End file.
